A journey of psychic discovery

Sesson 8 – Meeting your spirit guide

Sorry Thursday’s session is a little delayed, but it was a pretty heavy one and I’m still trying to work some of it through. Anyway here goes.

My Thursday friend pulled out at the last minute, well, about half an hour before the session was due to start.

There were ten of us in the circle, one a visitor from Spain who turned out to be very gifted and had many messages for members of the group. Our first meditation was a systematic relaxation, starting at the feet and working up to the head. I welcomed it, because to be honest I was knackered, and had I gone last week, would’ve given this night a miss. But I don’t want to miss too many sessions as I believe they build on each other.

I got little from the meditation apart from a bit of a sleep and a slight rush of energy as Greg asked us to mingle our energies. I also felt someone/something touch my left hand.

I say this almost every week, and here goes again. I’m amazed at what people see in their meditations. Colours, whole scenes playing out in front of their eyes, spirit standing behind, beside and in front of others. Old people, young people, and the in -betweeners. Me, usually very little. Archangel Michael was with us again, and other relatives with messages.

The second meditation was to help us meet our guides, because it had come to Greg’s notice that not all of us know who our guides are, and have therefore not built a working relationship with them, or call on them regularly to help us.

This one was really interesting for me. I think the best so far. You might want to grab a drink and/or a little snack; it’s going to be a long one.

Greg began by asking us to relax and go to a place we liked. I immediately went to my bed and pulled the duvet/quilt pulled over my head. I was just settling down for a snooze when he said,

‘It may be a garden, a beach, a field or anywhere that is special to you.’

It still felt like the right place to be, and if he hadn’t continued talking I would have gone to sleep. But he said,

‘Find somewhere to sit down; on a bench or rock or on the grass, anywhere that feels comfortable.’

I thought of sitting up but it felt like too much effort and I just stayed there, eyes closed, sinking deeper and deeper into the mattrass.

‘Someone is blocking the light in front of you,’ Greg said.

The only thing that was blocking my light was the duvet. But as he spoke something interesting happened. As I lay there in my semi-foetal position I saw a translucent me float out of my body and began tidying up my bedroom. Moving papers off the floor, putting clothes into drawers and wardrobes, tidying my dressing table. My floating me was a happy as Larry.

‘You will begin to see your guide from the feet upward,’ said Greg. ‘Look at the feet of the person in front of you. What kind of feet does he or she have? Is he or she wearing shoes or any other kind of footwear?

I looked (in my mind’s eye) at my floating feet and they looked remarkably like mine, corns and all.

Greg then moved up to the legs, thighs, lower and upper torso. Each time I simply saw me, happily floating around tidying up.

‘Now move to the head. See the head. What do you see?’

What I saw was my own head, but for a split second my mother’s head was superimposed on mine.

‘Have your guide sit down,’ said Greg. And my translucent me sat on the side of my bed.

At this stage I was thinking that my guide is probably my higher self, and was wondering how I could get it to do more tidying up for me.

‘Ask your guide, do you have a message for me,’ was Greg’s last instruction before he brought us out of the meditation back into the room.

‘Ask for more help,’ said Miss Translucent (as though reading my mind) before I made her disappear by opening my eyes.

When Greg got round to me for my feedback everyone laughed at the thought of me taking to my bed. As soon as I mentioned floating out of my body Greg said, ‘aahh, astral travel.’

The message of the meditation was quite simple and straightforward. My mother is quite likely close to me, and is one of my guides. He encouraged me to heed the message of asking for help instead of trying to do everything myself. (That kind of makes sense as my right ankle is still quite painful. (A sign of over-commitment according to The Secret Language of Your Body by Inna Segal).

And that should have been that. Except that something wasn’t sitting comfortably with me. You know that uneasy feeling you get when you know it should make sense but it doesn’t? It was the mother thing that didn’t feel right.

When I got home I did some dowsing. That again is an interesting coincidence (or not). At the weekend I did a big clearing of drawers and found a dowser I hadn’t seen in years. I decided to use it to ask if my mother is one of my guides. It was a resounding NO. So now I’m puzzled. If not that WHAT or WHO? I ran through the meditation again in my head.

I left my body, floated about happily doing things while my real body lay down motionless. My mother’s face was only superimposed on mine for a very short time. Then, while making a cup of tea an idea just drifted in. ‘What if this is about trance mediumship?’ A refute came instantly. ‘You’re only thinking that because of the discussion about trance mediumship in the group. That’s very advanced. You won’t be ready for that for ages yet’.

When I asked the dowser if this is what the meditation meant, it went berserk, spinning and spinning till I thought it would fly off the pendulum. I sat down and thought ‘Oh shit! This is more than just giving reading. I ran it through my head for about ten minutes then called my friend to get her take on it. She was busy doing her taxes to catch the 31st January deadline and my spiritual concerns would have to wait.

‘Well,’ I thought, ‘its not going to happen overnight so I might as well get a good night’s sleep,’ as I was still very tired. But that’s where I was wrong.

Have you got a drink? I did warn you it was going to be long. You might want to go and get one now.

As I drifted off to sleep I recalled Greg explaining that spirit usually entered from the left, and wondered if that’s what I felt touch my hand, my left hand.

Sleep brought no respite. As soon as I was asleep I was back in Greg’s advanced class. After about twenty minutes of a two hour session I left to find a toilet and a cup of tea, and was gone for ages. I bumped into lots of people who were also trying to find the toilet.

Then I was at one of my brother’s house, still looking for a toilet. One of the toilets in his house was broken, and he’d converted the en suite into storage cupboards.

Then I was with three young men sitting at one of those picnic tables outside a pub. The waitress was pouring one of the young me a cup of tea in a long white mug, clear tea, like green tea. He was trying to balance it in the hollow in his shoulder blades and I was trying to help him not spill it. This guy’s name was Jason, and I was commenting on the fact that the name ‘Jason has now come of age. (Once upon a time, after the Jason and the Argonauts film was released, there were a lot of boys being called Jason – now they’re grown men).

He managed to straighten up without spilling it and the waitress poured me a drink in a flatter, wider mouth cup. It was dark with what looked like tea leaves floating in it. I went to take a sip but a sixth sense said look closer. I got my glasses and looked into the cup to see lots of little dark fishes swimming around. Needless to say I didn’t drink the tea.

As the waitress went to leave in her car I rescued a handbag from being run over. It was almost identical to mine (quite a distinctive bag with red, black, white and beige squares and circles. I found three other similar bags and lined them all up on a large table inside the pub in what looked like a family room. I drew the three guys’ attention to this remarkable (to me) phenomenon, but oddly enough they didn’t seem interested.

I then noticed a friend of mine, stripped naked to the waist, looking after a baby and had just bend over to pick something up from the floor. She’d lost a lot of weight.

It occurred to me that there was only thirty minutes left of Greg’s session, and I decided to go back. My mother was outside the door, very worried that he may not let me back in. I asked her ‘what’s the worse that could happen – he could say no, you can’t come back.’ She continued to look worried until I opened the door and spoke to Greg.

He was standing just behind the door and everyone else (about ten people) was standing up in a circle.

He said, ‘come in, but be aware that the energy in here is very high, very intense.’

As I stepped into the room I woke me up, feeling as if I’d been on my feet all night.

I looked up the symbolism of fish in dreams as it’s the easiest part of the dream to try and decipher.

Fish =

To see fish swimming in your dream signifies insights from your unconscious mind. Thus to catch a fish, represents insights which have been brought to the surface. Alternatively, a fish swimming in your dream may symbolize conception. Some women dream of swimming fish when they get pregnant. The fish is also an ancient symbol of Christianity and Christian beliefs. Consider the common phrases “like a cold fish”, “fish out of water” or something that is “fishy” about a situation. It may also imply a slippery or elusive situation. Perhaps your dream could be telling you that “there are plenty of other fish in the sea”, with regards to some relationship issue.